Arabesque
by Amarylle
Summary: After the war, Hermione Granger is unable to restore the memories of her parents, and George Weasley is unable to even smile, much less continue inventing pranks. Minerva McGonagall offers an opportunity for them both to finish their education, and they accept. One day George comes across Hermione practicing ballet in the Room of Requirement, what will happen next? HG/GW.
1. Australia

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful world of Harry Potter and the canon characters belong to J.K Rowling and I am only borrowing them to write for my and other people's enjoyment, without any intention of profiting from it. I thank this creative lady for blessing us with such a rich ground to build up our creativity on!

* * *

She took a deep breath, swallowing hard, as she slammed her _Occlumency_ shields down forcefully, tucking her wayward rioting emotions away to the back of her mind. This was neither the time, nor the place to be an emotional basket case. She could break down later, when she was safely secluded from prying eyes, and she would not make a spectacle of herself.

"Are you alright, dear?" Monica asked softly, growing concern gleaming in her intelligent eyes.

Hermione plastered a tight smile on her face, and struggled to reign in her shaky voice. "Y-yes, Mu-, _m'am_." She whispered, her eyes widening slightly, as she almost slipped up.

After the war ended, and the funerals and memorials were settled, the young witch traveled to Australia looking for her parents, to restore their memories. After a few weeks of roaming the countryside, she arrived in the town of Ayr, located near Burdekin River.

She was surprised to learn how much her parents' lifestyle had changed with their new identities. They had given up working in health-care, and got in with the agriculture, harvesting sugar cane, and living a simple life.

Hermione introduced herself to Monica, and Wendell Wilkins, and when they turned around to invite her inside their home, she had attempted to return their memories that she had previously erased, to no avail. She tried several more times through having tea with them, and it was slowly sinking in that it was not possible to undo her rather desperate version of the _Obliviate_ spell.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Wendell asked in a worried tone.

"Yes," She choked, desperately trying not to utter the word _"Father"_.

He nodded, and lovingly caressed his wife's cheek, in a display of tender affection.

She swallowed hard once more, and stood up. "Thank you for the tea, and your hospitality." She said softly, as they walked her to the door.

"It was nice talking to such lovely young folk." Monica smiled brightly, leaning against her husband's side.

"Indeed, we never had the blessing of having children," Wendell said sadly. "I dare say if we had any, they would be around your age."

Hermione paled at his words slightly, clenching her hands into small fists, sinking her nails into her palms to stop reacting too strongly.

"You w-, _would be_ amazing parents." She said softly, her voice quivering.

"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Wilkins replied fondly, reaching out to pat her cheek.

The brunette witch swallowed, gazing into her Mother's eyes. "I know this might sound silly, but may I hug you, before I leave? I r-really miss my p-parents, and you remind me of them."

The couple shared a glance between them, and smiled at her. "You may." Mr. Wilkins answered, and that was all Hermione needed to envelop both of them in a warm embrace, holding on to them like her life depended on it. They gently engulfed her in their shared presence, and it had taken all the strength she possessed not to burst into tears. She lingered in their touch and smell as long as she dared, reluctantly pulling back when it was appropriate.

"Thank you." She smiled a small bittersweet smile.

"Take good care of yourself, dear." They told her, and she nodded.

"I wish you both a long life of happiness." She chimed, and left their home.

As the door of the small cottage closed behind her, she turned around, giving it a last longing look, and disappeared into thin air, the sharp clicking sound of apparation echoing in her wake.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is going to be another story with casually short chapters, similar to _Vengeance_ , centering around the lives of Hermione and George. We are going to take a look at how they deal with the consequences of the war: Hermione losing her parents to her _Memory Charm_ , and George losing his twin. Will they be able to find comfort in one another? Only time will tell.

The basic story plot of Hermione, and one-, or both of the Weasley twins happening upon her dancing her sorrow - after she was unable to restore her parents' memories - away was _Buffybot76_ 's brain child, and I am writing this as a gift to her. The dancing will obviously happen in later chapters, as I will have to lead up to it first a little bit.

Hopefully you will all find something to enjoy in reading this. Thank you for the inspiration, Rose. :)


	2. Weasley Woes

Molly was busy with stacking pancakes, and plopping the plate down in front of George, attempting to entice him to eat something, _anything at all_ , even if it was drenched in thick chocolate syrup, and contained a sinful amount of sugar.

"You need to eat something, dear." She chided him softly, worry and affection laced in her tired voice.

"Not hungry." George replied stiffly, gazing outside the window, completely missing his mother's frown.

Ever since the Weasley family lost Fred, it was like a part of George had died as well. He barely said a word, and it was a miracle if he looked at anyone. He did not want them to gaze upon the frighteningly haunted eyes and face of his dead brother, that he saw every single day in the mirror.

He did not know how to move on from losing his twin. They were born a couple of minutes apart, and grew up together, spending most of their time together, barely having any moments where they were actually alone. But that suited them just fine. They rained mischief upon the world, their faces lit up with twin grins of delight at the result.

Opening a joke shop together, fresh out of breaking away form Umbridge's reign of terror was a dream come true. Inventing products to cause noisy mayhem was their sacred mission in life. It was what they did best, it was what defined them.

He could not do that anymore.

He could not even think about pranks, much less being able to smile anymore.

It was like Fred was his inspiration, his very core essence, and he did not make sense without him.

There was Fred and George.

 _Gred and Forge._

There was always Fred _and_ George, never _just_ Fred, and never ever _just George_.

He did not know who he was without him. _Who was George?_ Did he even exist on his own?

It was very difficult to swallow that he had to figure out how to be _just George_ , without his better half, his more charming counterpart. Fred was always the funniest, the more handsome, the louder, and definitely the most mischievous twin.

He was better, and he was _gone_.

He left him all alone in this world. It did not matter that he had his family. He knew they loved him, he knew that they also lost a brother, and a son, and that they were trying to be there for him, but it did not matter. He was an empty shell without the bright shining light of Fred filling him with life.

He folded his arms atop the table, and buried his head in his palms.

He needed something new, he needed to do something that was just his own. He desperately needed a change, something to shake him out of his constant longing and sorrow.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at her son, with tears in the corner of her eyes. There were so many things that she wanted to say to him, but she could not put her thoughts and emotions into words, because there was this invisible wall between them, and she had no idea how to break it.

She dabbed at her eyes with a soft handkerchief, and busied herself with brewing some chamomile tea, which was supposedly soothing to the nerves.

George swallowed hard, and lifted his head slightly, gazing at his mother from under his long eyelashes, an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, when he saw her face blotched with tear streaks.

He was about to open his mouth to say something, when the fireplace flared up, and Minerva McGonagall stepped into their kitchen, with a determined expression on her face.

"Good morning!" The Animagus greeted them firmly.

"It's good to see you, Minerva, come in and take a seat. I will pour you a cup of tea." Molly said with a cheerful tone, pushing her depressing thoughts down for the moment.

"Good morning, Professor." George said politely, glancing at her briefly, then averting his gaze.

"Thank you, Molly." She nodded, and looked at the redheaded wizard. "I've actually come to see you, Mr. Weasley." She admitted, and he looked up at her with a brief raise of his brow.

"Why?" He asked flatly.

"I've come to offer you an opportunity to finish your education along with the rest of the students who were unable to finish last year." She chimed, and her voice softened slightly.

George looked at her face with actual surprise reflecting in his eyes. He did not even need to think about the offer, as he was aching for a distraction, even if that involved studying.

"I accept."

* * *

 **A/N:** A look at George's feelings. He is a little bit of a mess, but if McGonagall has anything to do about it, it won't be for as long as it would be without some rightful meddling.

Thank you for reading!


	3. Hogwarts Express

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as busy with life as ever. It was filled with cheerful and noisy children, and their exasperated parents, making sure their vivacious brood had everything they needed, at the very least for the fall term, before they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

The brunette witch was walking down the carriages of the scarlet coloured steam engine, looking for an empty compartment. Once she found one, she sat down without a second thought and sighed. She did not have a trunk on hand, or a carrier for a familiar this year. Her belongings were safely tucked away in her now ever-present small beaded bag, and Crooks stayed behind with the Weasleys, taking a shine to a disconsolate Mrs. Weasley.

It was unheard of that a witch's, or wizard's familiar would so blatantly choose to stay with someone, who wasn't their _Master_ , or _Mistress_ , but Hermione could understand why her orange menace decided to keep her company. She needed him.

Molly was in a very bad form. Losing Fred, and unable to even talk to George about it was too much to the Weasley matriarch. Unfortunately Arthur was not much of a supporting pillar for his wife either, as he barely came out of his garage, which was filled to the brim with muggle contraptions, since his son died.

Charlie has recently returned to Romania with his life-mate, Matei, who was a fellow local _Dragon Tamer_ , working on the same reserve with him. He was a tall wizard, worshiping the ground the redhead walked on. Hermione only met him briefly, but he seemed like a decent fellow, and clearly adored Char.

Bill and Fleur opted to move to France to be closer to her sister Gabrielle, and their mother Apolline, as her mate died in the war, which had sadly spilled out to France. They sent owls every week, but it was not the same as having them only an apparation away. International Portkeys unfortunately cost a fortune.

Percy was almost a non-entity. He married a solid, non-assuming witch called Audrey a few days after the war has ended, without inviting his family. They read about it in a painfully polite owl that he was most likely pressured into sending by his wife.

Ron had decided to move in with Harry, sharing one of the Potter properties in the heart of London, choosing to accept the honorary N.E.W.T.s that were offered to them, and accepting the invitation to join the ranks of the Aurors. They had a year of intensive training to look forward to, before they were officially in power.

Hermione also suspected that the boys actually fancied each other, because they had a very awkward conversation with Ginny and her before they were set to leave for the school year, despite the fact that neither girl was interested in them.

She chuckled to herself at the irony, startled from her thoughts when the door of the compartment slid open.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The lifeless voice of George Weasley inquired stiffly.

She glanced at him briefly, and shrugged. "Suit yourself." She hummed, averting her gaze, and looking outside of the compartment window.

The redhead nodded to himself, and took a seat opposite the witch, trailing his eyes over her. He was surprised to find that she was looking pale, and malnourished.

He frowned, and looked away. George knew that he wasn't the only one dealing with the aftermath of the war, but it was absolutely none of his business. He was never close with the witch. She was more of a nuisance to his brother and him, than anything else.

Granger looked at the redhead impassively. She noticed that he was barely going through the motions, but it was expected. Losing a loved one was difficult, and she could only assume how much worse losing a twin was. She felt compassion towards him, but she knew that nothing she could say or do would make it better. They weren't even friends after all.

The redheaded wizard glanced up at her and scowled. "Could you stop staring at me?" He drawled dryly. "It's disconcerting. I am not Fred, and I will never ever be Fred, even if you see him in me. He is gone, and you will just have to deal with it." He spat bitterly, glaring at her.

Hermione's eyes widened at his unexpected outburst. This was the most she had heard him say in months, even though he made no sense.

"I wasn't aware I was staring." She muttered. "Besides, you are George." She stated seriously, realizing the heart of the problem. " _Just George._ " She added softly. "You have always been just George to me." She explained even more quietly, and went back to glancing outside the window.

George looked at her sharply, her statement taking his breath away.

 _Was it possible that Granger did not see Fred, when she looked at him?_

That was something to ponder about. Thankfully, he had hours doing just that, as neither of them said another word, spending the train ride in companionable silence.

* * *

 **A/N:** My heart is filled with all these feelings for Hermione and George, even Molly. Dealing with the aftermath of the war is horrible, especially if your children flew from the nest, and your husband is a bit of a nutter obsessing with muggle toys in his grief.

We shall see what happens next.

Thank you for reading, and the few follows, favourites and reviews that I have received. I appreciate it.


	4. Thestrals

The Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station long after the sun has set over the horizon. When the horde of students trickled off the train in numerous waves, the first years were herded towards the boats by Hagrid, while the upper years headed towards the carriages, which were generally assumed to be _"horseless"_.

There were yelps of shock and surprise, when some of the student body were faced with the winged creatures that pulled their transportation towards the castle.

"W-what are t-those?" A scared second year witch tugged on the sleeves of Hermione's robes.

She glanced at the small witch, and gently pulled her towards her body in a comforting half-armed hug. "They are Thestrals." She murmured, but not in the bossy lecture tone that she was known for. Her personality mellowed slightly in the face of losing everything that she held dear.

The grown witch had lost her intense edge and the obsessive notion to prove herself to be good enough to please her parents. They would no longer be aware of her achievements, so she did not see the point to be as tense for success, as she used to be, thus she relaxed her demeanor. Her education was still important to her, but she would not badger her environment to study as intensively, nor will she incessantly try to answer every question anymore.

She smiled at the blonde girl softly. "Don't be afraid of them, they might look eerie, but contrary to popular belief they are not sinister creatures, merely misunderstood. Thestrals have a gentle personality, and they will take their passengers anywhere they tell them to go, which is why they are such brilliant help to get us to the castle."

The little girl's eyes widened. "Really?" She asked in a voice of wonder, and glanced at one of the winged beings they were standing near. The stallion stared at the witches with opaque white eyes, nickering softly, his wings fluttering slightly with curiosity as he gazed at them. "Why did I not see them last year?" She asked in a small voice.

The Gryffindor witch swallowed. "That is because only those, who previously witnessed death are able to see Thestrals." She whispered, and braced herself for her reaction, which was absolutely heart-breaking. She soon had her arms full of a sobbing little witch, clinging to her for dear life.

Hermione's heart sank to her stomach at the raw anguish on her face. She took a deep breath, and pulled back slightly to tuck a wayward curl behind the little witch's ear. "What's your name, honey?" She asked gently.

"L-lisa Goldstein." She mumbled, and the Gryffindor's breath had caught in her throat. "I s-saw my b-big brother d-die." She sniffled.

"I am sorry, sweetie." She caressed her back tenderly. "Which House were you sorted into?" She inquired, as she was not in attendance last year to know.

"H-hufflepuff." Lisa squeaked, clinging to the safety of the older witch's embrace.

"How about I give you some of my secret chocolate stash, and once we arrive in the castle, I will personally escort you to Professor Sprout?" She suggested kindly.

"O-okay." The small Hufflepuff confirmed, and they boarded the carriage, sitting down on one side, with Hermione still offering comfort to the girl.

George witnessed this quietly, his eyes never leaving Granger. She seemed different. He was not able to put his finger on the change, but he was aware that something was different. His heart ached at the little girl's loss. He could relate to that pain.

He sat opposite them, opting to remain quiet, as he watched as the brunette witch handed a chocolate bar to the distraught child.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Since when had Hermione Granger actually eat chocolate?

 _How very strange._

It was one more thing to ponder about, he supposed.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thestrals and little Lisa Goldstein shall be an important part of this story, as we go further. Thanks for reading.


	5. Magical Oath of Protection

Hermione noticed George's gaze trained upon her the whole carriage ride, but with little Lisa clinging to her for support, she did not say a word about it, merely furrowed her eyebrows slightly in thought. For someone who asked her not to stare at him, he was surely engaging in contradictory behaviour. _How very peculiar._

She gently ran her fingers through the little blonde's hair, soothing her nerves. She did not expect to be taking on the duties of looking after the younger years, as she refused being Head Girl this year, which surprised Mrs. Weasley, the only person who even knew about this turn of events.

She thought about the offer carefully, and while for so many years it was her dream to be Head Girl in her Seventh Year, things changed when the war heated up and she had to go on the run with the boys. While she was incredibly honoured to be offered this coveted position, she knew that she had to turn it down. It did not mean merely as much as it would have, if her parents were aware of her accomplishment, and she felt it unfair to rob an actual Seventh Year of this experience.

Hermione was surprised when despite turning down the respectable offer, Headmistress McGonagall still assigned the Gryffindor Head Suite for her use, as there were not any Gryffindor Head Students this year. She also confided in her that her badge went to Luna Lovegood, and that warmed the brunette witch's heart, because no matter how quirky that witch could be, she was a true Ravenclaw with cleverness to match her own.

Sometimes she wished that she could be more like Luna. She was such a free-spirited individual, and nothing seemed to faze her, and she wanted to be like that. Perhaps this year she could actually take her seriously and form a real friendship, and not just a casual acquaintance.

She was broken out of her reverie when the carriage halted.

George was the first to stand, and surprisingly enough he helped both Lisa, and Hermione off the higher level, so their feet met the ground more securely. Lisa smiled at him shyly.

"Thank you, Mr. er, um..." She stuttered with a blush.

"Weasley." He helped her out. "George Weasley."

"Yes, thank you Mr. Weasley." Hermione said with a cheeky smile, but she had a soft blush gracing her cheeks as well, with surprise flashing in her eyes. She had never actually witnessed George to do something so chivalrous.

The wizard's lips twitched slightly at the flustered witches in front of him. He surprised himself by helping them off the carriage, but for some reason he couldn't help himself. He was seeing such a kind and vulnerable side of Granger, that he couldn't help but stare at her.

She changed a lot over the years. Her hair tamed down slightly, but she still had a wild vibe to her dark curls. Her eyes held a haunted look, similar to what looked back at him every day in the mirror, but they were kind. She looked fragile and pale, but he knew she was still adjusting to actually having food available to eat.

Even though he did not interact with anyone, he watched his family, and Granger spent the past few weeks with them, so naturally he watched her as well, and he noticed that she had problems with eating. She barely ate a few mouthfuls every meal, and his mother was adamant to fatten her up a bit.

"You are welcome." He murmured stiffly, and headed towards the Great Hall.

Hermione blinked and shook her head, glancing at Lisa. "Well, let's go find your Head of House." She said gently, and her lips curled with a ghost of a smile, when the little one took a hold of her hand, and they walked into the Great Hall together.

She felt the stares directed at her and flinched. Ever since her contributions to the war effort became public knowledge, she was propelled into the limelight, not as Harry Potter's muggleborn best friend, but as _Hermione Granger, War Heroine, and The Brightest Witch of Their Age_. She hated the spotlight, and how the Wizarding public assumed that her private life was to become public knowledge.

She squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. She had to suck it up and not let it bother her.

Lisa sensed her new friend's distress and squeezed her hand gently. She did not like how the students were staring at her, especially how the wizards were looking her up and down. She felt protective of the witch that comforted her, and even though she was small, she wanted to protect her.

Almost no one noticed the slight glow emitting from Miss Goldstein, covering both witches with a warm tingle. Hermione blinked once more, and looked at Lisa curiously, who was clinging to her like a burr, not one for letting go.

George Weasley and Luna Lovegood were both staring at the two with wide eyes and slacked jaws. They knew the meaning of the glow, and were aware that the little blonde just willingly, albeit most likely unknowingly bonded herself to Hermione in a _Magical Oath of Protection_.

"Professor Spout?" Hermione echoed as they walked up to the Head table, where their Professors were sitting. "May we have a word with you?"

Pomona Sprout looked at the witches curiously, and when her gaze trained upon her distraught Puff, she nodded. "Of course, Miss Granger. What ails you?" She asked once they walked a little off to the side.

"Well, a lot of the students can see the Thestrals now-" Hermione began, and realization dawned on the Head of Hufflepuff House. "Lisa asked about them, and I explained, so she mentioned that her brother died-"

Pomona's eyes were full of understanding and compassion. "My condolences, Miss Goldstein. Anthony was a fine Ravenclaw, my dear." She said ever so gently.

Lisa's lips quivered and she nodded. "He was s-smart, and k-kind." She mumbled, clutching on to Hermione. "I m-miss him."

The Gryffindor and Professor Sprout shared a glance, and the elder witch nodded. "Would you like me to ask the Headmistress for special Floo access for your parents, Miss Goldstein? Then whenever you feel sad, they could come and visit you."

"Really?" She asked looking at her Head of House with wide eyes. "Yes, please!" She pleaded in a small voice.

"Consider it done, Miss Goldstein. Now let me escort you to your House table, so you can mingle with your friends." Professor Sprout hummed.

Lisa's face paled and she mumbled something unintelligible. " _Idhnyfnds._ "

"Could you please repeat that slower, dear?"

Lisa stared at the ground in shame. "I don't have any friends, Professor." She mumbled, and with that simple confession she tugged on Hermione's heartstrings. She knew how it was to be friendless, and she had no desire to let the little girl she felt such a connection to experience that.

"Don't be silly, love." She said softly, trailing her fingertips through her hair. "I am your friend, aren't I?" She asked with a chuckle. "You can sit with me and my fellow Gryffindors, if you like."

Pomona Sprout felt a wave of gratitude for Hermione Granger, that had nothing to do with her being a renown _War Heroine_ , rather she appreciated the genuine kindness that she showed.

Lisa stared at her with wide eyes. "Really, I can really sit with you?" She echoed.

Hermione chuckled. "Really, really."

A bright smile lit up her face. "Yay!" She grinned, nudging her towards George, and sitting down next to him, while pulling Hermione to sit beside her.

The whole Great Hall was amused at little Lisa Goldstein's antics, and the general mood was set for the Sorting.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have to say I adore little Lisa. Thanks for reading!


	6. Scary Chicken

After the Sorting of the new first year intake, and the customary speech of the Headmistress, the tables were filled to the brim with food that smelled delicious. The small muggle-raised witches and wizards stared at the cuisine that appeared out of thin air with wide shining eyes. It was a lot to take in.

George snorted as his eyes trained on a slightly chubby messy haired boy, who had the table manners of Ron, meaning he was inhaling his food in an absolutely disgusting fashion. He gagged to himself, and took a little bit of mash and roasted chicken, with a side of steamed peas onto a plate. He had not really been eating much lately, but he felt really hungry, thus he supposed he could indulge himself in some sustenance.

He glanced at Granger, who was sitting beside the Hufflepuff girl, and frowned. She barely ate a bite or two, and even though she was trying to disguise her lack of appetite, he noticed. It bothered him to see her look so dejected, thus he decided to tease her some, thinking that maybe that would help.

"Is that chicken leg scaring you, Granger?" He asked with an almost playful tone, which surprised the witch, because he was always moping around these days.

Hermione decided to make light of things as well, and nodded dramatically. "Oh, _yes_. I am _so_ scared. Whatever will I do?" She echoed cheekily.

George's lips twitched. "Perhaps if you'd take a bite or two, it would surrender to you."

"I guess that's a possibility." She hummed, but made no move to actually do as he suggested.

Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Well then, what is keeping you from taking a few bites?" He asked with an impassive voice.

"Perhaps I have already eaten enough." She shrugged, toying with a few pieces of corn.

He shook his head. "I highly doubt that, considering that the _Welcoming Feast_ only started a few minutes ago."

Hermione huffed. "Shouldn't you be focusing on your plate, rather than what I may or may not eat?" She asked briskly.

George smiled inwardly at how feisty the witch was. He remembered how much fun he and Fred used to have riling her up. He swallowed his emotions, and shook his head. "I suppose so, even though you should eat some more. It would be good for you." He replied stiffly, turning his attention back to his meal.

The brunette witch hummed to herself, secretly surprised and somewhat touched at the attention the older wizard had paid her. She was well aware that George was referring to the fact that he observed that she was having trouble eating. She noticed that he watched her from time to time, but she just shrugged it off, because she had absolutely no idea that he actually pondered about her issues.

She sighed and picked up her knife, cutting off a piece of chicken, and forking it with a few bits of corn. She lifted the utensil to her mouth, and nibbled on the meat and vegetables slowly. She repeated this action a few times, and grimaced.

George peered at the witch from the corner of his eyes, satisfied to see his words had an actual impact on her.

Watching her eat _almost_ made him smile.

 _Almost, but not quite._

* * *

A few hours later George was roaming the castle like a ghost, unable to sleep, and uncaring about the possibility of getting caught violating curfew. House points and detentions did not mean anything to him. He only accepted to come back to school, because he needed a distraction from his depression, and he really enjoyed his Hogwarts years.

He did not take it into consideration that everything would remind him of Fred, and the mischief they brought down on their unsuspecting, and _the very much suspicious_ victims of their pranks.

The flaming haired wizard halted in surprise, when he noticed that he unconsciously walked up to the Seventh Floor, just across from the tapestry of _Barnabas the Barmy_. He curled his lips slightly, pacing in front of the blank wall, with a clear thought in mind.

When the door appeared, he pressed down on the knob, and froze in the doorway, staring at the sight in front of him in a mixture of awe and sheer disbelief.

There stood Hermione Granger in clothing he had never seen before, her body arched in delicate angles and curves, as quiet tunes of an unfamiliar melody chimed in the background.

He could not take his eyes off of her.

 _She was simply exquisite._

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, now we are getting somewhere. Ballet chapter is coming tomorrow. I think so at least. For some reason I am the most inspired with this story at the moment.

Thank you for the follows, favourites and the reviews, I appreciate it.


	7. Arabesque

After promising Lisa that she could indeed sit with her tomorrow morning at breakfast, Hermione sneaked away from the prying eyes of the students, strolling towards the Room of Requirement, to have some much needed privacy.

She paced in front of the blank wall, with only one thought in her mind.

The corners of her lips curled into a small smile as she entered the space provided for her benefit. She quietly closed the door behind her, and stepped into the middle of the ballet studio inspired room.

Hermione's small smile transformed into a grin as her eyes trailed over the polished wooden floor, that was glistening like pure crystal fragments. She closed her eyes, her nostrils flaring at the fragrant scent that reminded her so much of _pre-ballet_ jitters. She spun around, soft laughter escaping her as she opened her eyes, gazing at the cream coloured walls, seeing her reflection in the huge mirrors hanging on the wall, and inspecting the ballet bars strung across them, that were inviting her to warm-up.

She shed her knitted sweater and grabbed her wand, transfiguring her clothes into non-restricting shapes, and fabric that allowed her skin to breathe. She styled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, with a few impish tendrils caressing the nape of her neck. Her body was adorned in a pearl coloured leotard, with a soft tulle tutu barely grazing her thighs, and enhancing her trim waist.

She waved her wand at her shoes, and they were transfigured into a pair of soft pointe ballet flats, with silky ribbons, which she delicately secured around her slender ankles.

She smiled, tucking her wand into her hair, flicking her wrists, and letting a soft familiar melody engulf her senses, as she sunk into the practiced motions of slowly warming her body for her dance choreography. She had no intention straining herself any more than the dance itself would certainly do so.

Hermione was anticipating the delicious ache in her muscles that warmly welcomed her as she arched her body into an elegant _Arabesque_ , balancing on the tips of the toes of her supporting leg, while gracefully turning and extending her other leg straight behind her, her arms mimicking the frail movement.

She closed her eyes, letting her body and dancing instincts take over. She did not want to think, she merely wanted to feel, thus she did not notice when George arrived, his tall frame frozen in the doorway, his eyes staring intensely at her posture.

She softly mumbled directions for herself. " _Ballonné._ " She whispered, as she jumped from her position, only to arrive back in her original pose. " _Allongé-_ " She chimed, stretching the form of her _Arabesque_ further, delighting in the sensual tension in her body.

" _Plie, Pique, Pirouette..._ " She listed off some of her favourite ballet terms, arching and angling her body into a sharp turn, bending one of her knees, while carefully touching the other with the ball of her feet, spinning in a swift movement, unrestrained laughter escaping her lips.

Hermione spun around in a controlled motion, yet she felt more free dancing in sharp twists and slants, than she ever felt balancing on a broom. Ballet was her escape from her troubles, the one thing that was only hers. She did not have to be smart to solve riddles, or take care of anyone when she was speaking the language of dance. She could simply be herself and let it all go.

And let it go, she did. George was mesmerized by the witch losing herself in her art. She was simply divine. He was enchanted by the way she moved, and how her body expressed her emotions. Her undertaking told a bittersweet story, and he realized that his eyes were moist with gathering tears.

His eyes widened and he gasped as all of a sudden she completely fell apart, sinking to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He found himself moving on instinct, closing the distance between them, and kneeling by her side, taking the whimpering witch into his arms.

"Hermione..." He whispered gently.

She shivered, startled by his presence. "George?" Her voice quivered. " _Oh, George._ I lost them, I can never have them back. I lost them forever, George, I lost them. _It's all my fault-_ " She blubbered.

He gently caressed her hair, and pulled her closer. He was at a loss, not understanding what she was talking about. "Hermione, what do you mean you _"lost them"_? Who are you talking about?" He echoed.

"My parents." Her broken voice choked.

It was like that statement sucked all the air out of the room, and the flaming haired wizard tightened his embrace on the little witch that he was swearing to protect from all this heartache. He might not know all the facts, but he knew sorrow when he saw it.

Perhaps his distraction from his own depression wasn't that far away.

* * *

 **A/N:** There we go. Some _dancy-dancy_ , spiced with salty tears, and a handsome Weasley.

On a side note, I apologize if I made an error or two while describing ballet, I am not a dancer, but I did some research, and hopefully did the delicate art justice. Let me know if you'd like some more dance scenes, or perhaps Mia teaching our George to dance. That'd be hilarious.

Thank you for reading! :)


	8. Monster

They remained in that same kneeling position for what felt like hours. Hermione's tears soaked the soft fabric of George's shirt, but he did not mind. He gently held the petite witch against his chest, his left hand awkwardly, albeit very tenderly caressed her back. He dipped his chin into her lush curls, his nostrils flaring at the faint scent of sun-kissed mango, hibiscus, and jasmine.

George inhaled deeply, her sweet aroma engulfing his senses. She reminded him of a sunlit day in spring. He could almost feel the warm rays of sunlight caressing his face, gently teasing his skin. He tightened his hold around the sobbing witch, and simply held her as long as she needed the comfort of his embrace.

He waited for her to calm down somewhat before he spoke, his words wary and cautious. "Hermione-" He addressed her intimately, as he did not really feel like it was appropriate to call her _Granger_ , when she was falling apart in his arms. "What did you mean when you said that you lost your parents, and it was your fault?" He asked, wincing at how personal and inquisitive his question sounded, but he wanted to know.

 _He needed to know._ He was not sure _why_ he needed to know, but he did nevertheless.

Hermione stiffened, and shrank back to herself. "I _o-obliviated_ them of their memories of m-me." She whispered in a small voice. "I w-wiped my existence from their m-minds. T-they d-don't remember me. _It's my fault._ I can't reverse it." She choked.

George's eyes widened at her admittance, and he did not know what to think. On one hand he was terribly appalled, but on the other hand he realized _why_ she would do such a thing. She wanted to protect her family from the _Death Eaters_ , however misguided her actions might have been, and that he respected.

"I found them in Australia. They live in Ayr now. I talked to them, b-but I can't have them back." She whispered. "You know the worst thing of all, George?" She glanced at him with red-rimmed eyes.

The prankster shook his head in the negative. "Hm?"

"They seemed so much happier than they were when they were aware of my existence." She let out a small bitter laugh. "They looked younger, and so in love. It was a bittersweet sight." She paused, her fingertips fiddling with the hem of her tulle skirt. "I love that they are content with their lives, but it made me realize how much of a burden _I_ have been to their lives. _How much of a burden magic had been to them._ It hurts, George. It hurts so much." She closed her eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I can't help but think that they would hate me, if they knew. _They would hate me, and I would deserve it._ "

He stared at her in shock. He had never seen Granger in such a vulnerable state, and if he was honest with himself, it was not sitting right with him. It was not right that she was so distraught, so broken. He did enjoy seeing her riled up and angry, because her wild hair would sparkle with an innate magic quality that always intrigued him, but he did not like seeing her upset. Her sorrow made his chest tighten, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He reached out a hand and gently caressed some of her tears away with his thumb. "They would not hate you." He promised. "I am not saying that they would not be shocked and angry that you meddled with their minds, but eventually they would understand. They would forgive you."

She looked at him disheartened. "I don't know. I would not forgive anyone for erasing my memories, and I did that to the people I love the most." She murmured in a hollow voice. "I am a _monster_."

George stared at her with a completely flabbergasted expression that suddenly darkened into anger. "Now listen here little witch-" His voice was quiet, but it held a dangerous edge to it. "You have absolutely no right to call yourself a monster. _Are you completely daft?_ " He raised his voice, and Hermione instinctively pulled away from him, and scrambled backwards from the power of his ire. "How can someone with _your intelligence_ even entertain such a thought? You were on the brink of war, courageously following your best friend into the thick of it, and naturally you made a misguided and panicked decision, but that does not mean that you acted with ill-intent in your heart-" He paused, clenching his fists together, completely oblivious to the fact that he was scaring the muggleborn. " _Voldemort and his band of Death Eater scum were the monsters._ They rained terror, pain and sorrow upon our society, and it was because of _them_ that I lost my most valuable treasure." He swallowed hard as angry tears were threatening to spill. "It's because of _them_ I don't have my other half anymore. It's because of _them_ I can't even look at a joke item, or even consider smiling. It's because of those vicious, cruel, and insane excuses of utter wastes of space that my Father moved into our garage, refusing to even acknowledge the rest of us. It's because of _them_ that my Mother can't even look me in the eye without breaking down into tears, and why I cannot look in the mirror without a sharp jolt of pain in my heart, and memories of Fred flooding my mind. It is because of those _real monsters_ that we have a broken family."

Hermione was looking at the materialization of furious ranting, and her lips quivered at the raw anguish reflected in every gesture of the wizard. She let out a shaky breath, and pressed her back against the cold surface of the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest, desperately clinging to herself, feeling even worse than she did before.

George snapped his eyes to the trembling witch and glared at her, thoroughly irritated. "Don't you _dare_ call yourself a monster, it's _insulting_ to everything that happened to _you_ , to _us_ , to _all_ the broken families."

There was a flicker of fear in her honey coloured eyes when she looked at him, which she could not mask quickly enough, but she quietly nodded, averting her gaze, and hugging herself even tighter than before.

He glanced at her broken form and realized that in the heat of his righteous ire, he lashed out at someone who was grieving a loss similar to his, and blamed herself for it. He swallowed his distaste about his actions, and moved closer to her. Hermione flinched at the movement, and he froze. He never once thought that anyone would be afraid of his closeness, and a bitter kind of hurt jolted him to the core.

"I am sorry." He whispered. "I did not mean to scare you. You know that I would never hurt you, right?" He asked, desperately needing her confirmation that she knew this.

She looked at him, hesitating. "I know." She said softly, but her voice faltered slightly.

George stared at her and frowned. Her reaction to his anger was not normal, and he couldn't help but feel like there was some important information that he and Hermione's friends were lacking.

He sat in front of her, and gently reached out to touch her hand. "Hermione, what happened to you?" He asked, his voice a quiet whisper.

The brunette witch's eyes widened like saucers, and she stared at him with a panicked expression. "N-nothing." She replied, vehemently shaking her head.

" _Hermione..._ "

She looked at him, her eyes wild and panicked. "Please don't pry." She pleaded softly.

He frowned at her, but nodded. "Alright." He mumbled, and noted that her body eased up a little when he said that.

"Thank you." She whispered and took a deep breath, standing up, her legs slightly shaking under her. She reached for her wand, and transfigured her clothes into the outfit she previously wore, and grabbed her knitted sweater. She walked to the door, and turned around to look over her shoulder. "I am sorry for angering you, and thank you for comforting me, even if it turned into this." She smiled a small bitter smile, and left.

George stayed in the same sitting position for hours after she left, his eyes blankly staring at the same spot she vacated.

 _Where would they go from this?_

* * *

 **A/N:** Well..., that went from sweet to scary to sad in one swell swoop. What do you think happened to Hermione? Thank you for reading! :)


	9. Uneasy

Hermione fled the Room of Requirement, like a startled and panicked doe. George's presence had caught her off guard. She did not plan on sobbing her heart out on anyone's shoulder, much less on _his_. Furthermore, she did not plan on confiding in anyone about her parents and how much guilt she carried around because of her desperate actions before the war.

She felt _so_ ashamed that she had stolen their memories, but she desperately needed to do something - _anything -_ to protect them, and that frantic need to see her parents safe spiraled way out of control resulting in... _this_.

The uneasy witch navigated the halls and corridors of the castle seamlessly, and scuttled up to the Gryffindor Head Suite in record time, muttering her password to the painting, without giving it a second look. The painted portrait huffed at her rudeness, but Hermione paid it no mind. She just wanted to be safe inside her quarters.

Once she slipped inside, she shed her clothing, changed into her pyjamas, and buried herself under a pile of fluffy blankets. She tightened the soft fabric around her body, and burrowed into her pillows, seeking both warmth, and comfort. She sighed, and part of her desperately wished that Crooks had followed her to Hogwarts, but she knew that he was looking after Mrs. Weasley, and that was more than okay in her books.

Hermione did not want to think about it, but... for a few long moments George Weasley had scared the hell out of her with the intensity of his raw anger. She felt so much compassion for the wizard for losing Fred and still breathing, living with that incredible sense of loss, and she knew that his anger was righteous and justified, but it reminded her too much of events she wanted to forget.

She shut her eyes tightly, and curled into herself, hoping that sleep would be a kind Mistress tonight and take her into her embrace, without torturing her with nightmares.

Once the war heroine succumbed to sleep, there was a soft whoosh, and her pillow sank slightly, as a certain weight settled by her head. A dark orange beak gently preened her hair, untangling the wild mess in a soothing motion, and watching over her while she slept, guarding her dreams.

A certain Headmaster, who was visiting with another portrait that hung above the headboard of Hermione Granger's bed, looked like the cat that ate the canary, as his eyes twinkled madly at the sight.

* * *

Lisa Goldstein felt terribly uneasy for some reason, and for once it had absolutely nothing to do with missing her brother. She felt it in her heart of hearts that something was _off_ , and she was working herself up into a frenzy, unable to sleep.

She sat up, and cast a quick _Tempus Charm_ , sighing at what it said. _2:19 am._

The small blonde witch frowned as she flopped back on her bed, tossing and turning around, unable to get even remotely comfortable, so she sat up again with an adorably disgruntled expression.

She grabbed _Ini_ , her stuffed unicorn, that Anthony had gifted her for her tenth birthday, and crushed the soft toy to her body, remembering the kindness that Professor Sprout paid her, right after the feast at the Great Hall had concluded.

" _Please follow me to the Headmistress' office, Miss Goldstein." Pomona Sprout had softly requested._

" _Yes, Professor." Lisa nodded, and casting a furtive glance at Hermione Granger's retreating back, and feeling a sense of longing to be with her, she turned around and followed her Head of House towards their destination._

 _They walked in silence, and she struggled to keep up with her Professor's pace. Eventually they turned up in front of the guarding Gargoyles that obediently slipped aside, when Pomona muttered a barely audible string of words._

 _They walked up on the winding staircase, and arrived in a bright circular room, that was sprinkled with bookshelves, a huge fireplace, a desk, and a comfortable looking high chair, with an assortment of knick-knacks scattered around the office, seemingly organized in chaos._

 _Lisa stared in wide-eyed wonder at the many portraits that hung on the wall. The sheer amount spoke of a rich history, that she had known absolutely nothing about._

" _Pomona, Miss Goldstein, what's the occasion for this unexpected visit?" Minerva McGonagall inquired, as she looked up from a pile of parchment she needed to sort._

 _Professor Sprout leaned over the beautifully crafted wooden desk, and had a whispered conversation with the Headmistress, her usual stern expression softening slightly at Sprout's words, casting a few assessing glances her way._

 _Miss Goldstein shifted on her legs, and fidgeted uncomfortably at the attention._

 _The Headmistress stood up, and walked towards a cabinet, grabbing a small nondescript bowl, and moving to the fireplace, she whispered a few words, floo-calling the Goldsteins, and asking them to step through the hearth._

" _Mummy!" Lisa squealed, as Lucinda Goldstein's gentle features appeared in the office. Her daughter ran up to her, and promptly burst into tears at her familiar proximity._

 _They spent the next twenty minutes talking, while she clung to her mother like a burr._

She smiled slightly at the comfort she was able to draw from her Mother, and squished Ini to her tightly, the memory calming her somewhat, but she still couldn't shake that something was _off_.

She sighed and fluffed up her pillows, carefully arranging Ini in a place of honour, and laid her head beside the unicorn, closing her eyes, and counting sheep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Whoever could Hermione's nightly visitor be guarding her dreams? Also, little Lisa Goldstein is growing more and more on me. I usually don't write too many _OC's_ , but I really love this little one.

Thank you for reading!


	10. Echo

George felt numb as Hermione left the Room of Requirement hastily. He was mortified that she felt the need to flee from his company. He never wanted to scare her, or lash out at her. He just suddenly felt _so_ angry that such a selfless witch would consider herself as bad as the _Death Munchers_ , or their boss the _Rotten Noseless Warmonger_. It was such a scandalously untrue thought, that it made his blood boil with anger.

He did not miss the kindness that she treated his Mother with. To leave behind one's familiar to take care of another was no small gesture on her part. Especially when it was clear that she needed the ginger miscreant.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his ginger hair, and then suddenly barked a sharp laugh at the thought that _he was also a ginger miscreant_ , and how ironic that really was. _Perhaps he could be there for her instead?_ He did not know why, but he _really_ wanted to be there for her. He never saw Granger to be so unbelievably vulnerable in all his years of knowing her.

It was true that he did not really _know_ her, but he and Fred used to spend hours just watching her, and riling her up over anything they could tease her with. It was strangely addicting to see that scorching fire in her eyes when she was angry and annoyed. It was especially amazing when her hair crackled with wild magic. _Oh how he missed seeing that._ Even her crazy hair was flat nowadays, as though those rich tresses knew that she wasn't herself. It _bothered_ him for some reason.

Even when she fell out with Harry and his brother for a while over the _Firebolt incident_ , she did not look, or behave like this. She just carried on, immersing herself in books and parchment. He remembered seeing her in the Library when he was researching the _Charms_ they needed for a school-wide prank. She was sitting in a corner, her wand tucked into her impromptu bun atop her head, as she was scribbling furiously into one of those strange muggle notepads. Her fingertips were smudged with ink, and there was a _Sugar Quill_ dangling out of her mouth. That was when he realized she did enjoy _some_ sweets.

He sighed, and exhaled slowly. He did not want to think about Fred, or Hermione anymore tonight. He was completely spent both emotionally, and mentally. He closed his eyes, and his traitorous thoughts led him to thinking about Fred anyway.

"I wish you were here, Freddie. I really need to talk with you, to know that you are okay." He mumbled softly, completely oblivious to Hogwarts' magic responding to his heart's true desire.

" _Forge._ " A mischievous voice chimed softly.

George froze, his heart jumping to his throat. He vehemently shook his head, his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage. "I must be _hallucinating_. I swear I could hear Fred's voice." He clenched his hands in his frustration.

" _Brother-_ " Fred sighed softly, his expression sad. He would have reached out to touch him, but he did not exactly have a body to do that with.

His twin groaned. "There is Fred's voice again. I swear my mind is making this up." He angrily grunted. "I never thought I would play such a cruel prank on myself. _Who knew I could be such an arsehole._ " He mumbled.

" _For Merlin's sake Georgie, stop talking to yourself like an insane person and open your eyes!_ " Fred yelled loudly, and hovered closer to his twin, waiting for him to do as he was told. _Oh, if only he had the chance to poke and prod him mercilessly..._

George's eyes flew open, and his jaw dropped when he saw Fred in all his transparent glory hovering in front of him. " _F-fred_?" He stammered, his voice cracking with emotion.

Fred's eyes softened. " _It really is me, brother._ " He smiled.

George swallowed. "H-how is this even possible?" He asked, his stomach tying itself into anxious knots.

His other half shrugged. " _I don't know. One moment I was wherever it is our souls go when we die, and then suddenly I was pulled here to you._ " He explained.

"Oh." George blinked. "I did wish I could talk with you, to know that you are okay." He admitted, his eyes shining with tears. "How are you?" He asked, and then barked a strained laugh. "I completely lost it, haven't I? Asking my dead twin how he is..." He buried his face in his hands.

The ghostly twin's expression was both kind and solemn as he looked around. " _You are back at Hogwarts?_ " He asked surprised. " _Never thought I would see the day..._ " He quipped playfully, then it was as if a light-bulb went off in his head. " _This is the Room of Requirement, isn't it? You wished to be able to talk to me. No, you needed to talk to me, and Hogwarts helped you. This is brilliant!_ " He said excitedly, completely ignoring Georgie's question.

The ginger wizard looked back up, and simply stared at Fred, just drinking him in, and listening to the voice that he wanted to hear ever since he had lost him. "Freddie?" His voice quivered.

" _Hm?_ "

"I miss you so much..." George admitted, his eyes locked with his twin's.

" _I know._ " Gred smiled a lopsided smile. " _I don't have long to be here_." He warned him.

His brother's eyes flooded with panic. "Will you be able to come back?" He asked in desperation.

Fred averted his gaze. " _I don't know, but probably not._ " He sighed, and looked at his twin with fondness. " _I love you. Please tell the family that I love them too._ " He pleaded softly, and started to fade away.

"No!" George jumped up as his twin was starting to disappear. "No, please don't go!" He shouted, his body shaking. "Don't you dare leave me again! You can't do this to me! I can't live without you..." He pleaded, thick tears trailing down his face.

If a ghost could have been brokenhearted, then Fred managed to be just that. " _I'm sorry._ " He whispered, and vanished.

"No, no, no you can't leave me again, no!" George chanted, as he crumpled in a heap on the floor. "Please come back..." He whispered, but this time nothing happened.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry? Nah, not really. But poor Georgie. On one hand he saw his twin, on the other hand I think he is worse off than he was previously.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	11. Phoenix

Hermione woke to the early autumn sunlight caressing her face, and a soft weight pressing down on her right shoulder and neck. She fluttered her eyelashes lazily, and opened them slowly, as she felt completely comfortable for some reason. A weak smile curled the corners of her lips, as she realized that for once she did not wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

A gentle warble prompted her to look to the right, and her breath had caught in her throat. There in the junction of her neck and shoulder nuzzled the late Headmaster Dumbledore's fiery familiar, Fawkes.

" _Fawkes?_ " She asked, just to make sure the phoenix was not a mere mirage her troubled mind made up.

He trilled a melodious tone in confirmation, and nuzzled her cheek lovingly. Hermione was stunned beyond words that this beautiful legendary bird would pay any kind of attention to her. She reached out, and carefully stroked his primary feathers. She was surprised how silky they felt under her fingertips.

"I assume that I have _you_ to thank for my peaceful slumber." She smiled warmly, and Fawkes warbled, bobbing his head up and down. Hermione chuckled, and leaned in to brush her lips against the crown of his feathers lovingly. "Thank you for watching over me, but don't you have more important things to do?"

The phoenix's content expression faded, and his bright blue eyes reflected his lonely sorrow.

" _Oh._ " The witch mumbled sadly. "I am _so_ sorry for your loss. I know how it feels to be lonely and alone, missing the people you love the most in this world." She murmured, and averted her gaze.

Fawkes glanced at the depressed witch in front of him with understanding and longing. He could relate to the sad human. He really missed his human familiar's company, even though they did not have the full bond, because the wizard was always busy with something else to properly spend time with him, but they loved and respected each other nevertheless.

Perhaps it was time to see if there was a chance this lost little witch with the kind heart could be the person he was waiting for. He decided that he would take his time to ponder this, and for now he would keep watch over her, and keep her company.

Hermione spent the next hour taking a shower and getting ready for her classes, with her new friend curiously following her everywhere she went. When it was time to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, she paused and glanced at the phoenix.

"Are you planning to tag along with me?" She asked anxiously, and the phoenix hopped on her shoulder cheerfully. "You will cause quite the mayhem." She paused in thought, and sighed. "No, _we_ will cause it together, won't we. No one will understand _why_ you'd hang around me."

Fawkes had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, much like his previous companion, and she slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Well then, to the Great Hall we go, feathered miscreant." She chuckled, and her bird-ball friend warbled merrily.

They made quite the entrance, and she flushed, a rosy hue adorning her cheekbones, as all eyes snapped to her person. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and walked to the Gryffindor table, sitting down at a fairly deserted spot.

Under the watchful gaze of her peers, she reached into a bowl laden with fruit, and picked up a couple of strawberries, and held them out for Fawkes. "For you, love." She smiled softly, and the beautiful warble he sang in response lifted quite a few hearts.

It did not take long for someone to approach her. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall made a straight line for her, as soon as she strode into the Great Hall.

"Good morning, Miss Granger." She greeted her formally. Even though her student had permission to call her Minerva when they were in private, and she heartily called her favourite lioness Hermione, they kept to protocol in public. "I cannot fail to notice that you seem to have gained an interesting breakfast companion." She said, her lips twitching with amusement.

Hermione glanced up. "Good morning, Headmistress." She warmly responded. "To my surprise, I woke up to Fawkes snuggling into my neck this morning." She explained, her tone carrying a flicker of sheer disbelief at this particular turn of events. "I am not quite sure why, but he decided to tag along with me today." She plucked a few cherries from the same fruit bowl, and the eager phoenix gulped them down happily. "I hope this won't be a problem?" She echoed warily.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. She was quite shocked, if she was honest with herself. The last time anyone had seen Albus' phoenix was at his funeral, then the mythical bird had disappeared. She assumed that Fawkes decided to move on to settle in somewhere else, or perhaps look for another bond with someone else.

"Of course it will not be a problem, although you might need to deal with a lot of curious stares." She hummed, even though she was aware that Miss Granger would have suffered mindless staring anyway, because of her _War Heroine_ status.

Hermione nodded, and buttered a piece of toast for herself. "Thank you for your concern, Headmistress." She smiled.

The Headmistress nodded, her eyes soft. "Please do join me in my office after your classes have concluded for the day. I have something I would like to discuss with you, and I am sure a _certain Headmaster_ wouldn't mind a word either." She requested.

If the old tabby cat knew Albus _twinkle-twinkle little star_ Dumbledore as well as she thought she did, then she was certain he already knew that his familiar had chosen to align himself with Hermione Granger. It was a surprising, but delightful piece of news nonetheless.

"As you wish, Headmistress." The Gryffindor witch replied, slightly curious about the subject matter her Professor wished to discuss, but that had to wait for later.

The Transfiguration Mistress nodded again, and left her student to her own devices, joining the other Professors at the High table to have some breakfast herself.

It wasn't long that someone else had walked up to Hermione, although perhaps running up to her would have been a better description, as a tiny blonde missile crashed into her side with an enthusiastic hug.

"Hermione!" Lisa Goldstein exclaimed excitedly. " _You are here!_ " She squealed with glee, then her eyes trailed over the red and golden bird, and her jaw hit the floor. "You have a phoenix sitting on your shoulder!"

One moment little Lisa was staring at Hermione in awe, and the next the _War Heroine_ was crushing her to her body, diving under the table, and casting a non-verbal _Protego_ at her young charge, as a string of hexes and curses flew towards the Hufflepuff. As she protected Miss Goldstein with both her body and magic, some of the spells struck her in her back, and Hermione fell limp on the second year.

Fawkes violently screeched out in anger, and an eerie silence had befallen the room.

And then... pandemonium erupted.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hermione's nightly guard is revealed and then... well we will see what happens next. ;)

Thank you for reading!


	12. Great Hall Disaster

She watched with unmasked disdain, as the _Gryffindor Princess_ strolled into the Great Hall, with a majestic phoenix perching on her shoulder, no less. She scowled, glaring down at her plate, and toying around with a piece of sausage, stabbing at it angrily, and plopping it into her mouth.

She gazed back at the _know-it-all_ witch with disapproval shining in her eyes. _Why did she have to come back, and ruin everything?_ Wasn't it enough that she was hailed as _Britain's Prized War Heroine,_ and _The Brightest Witch of Their Age_? Did she _really_ have to come back to parade around as a student, when she could have taken the Ministry's offer of accepting an honorary Hogwarts diploma?

The witch wearing Gryffindor colours snorted to herself. Of course, _Granger_ would _not_ be satisfied with something like that, she probably wanted to break the school records, and go down in history, _as the most annoying swot in existence_. _How typical of her._

Her throat constricted, when she glanced at the tall redheaded wizard, who was sitting at the far end of the table, and her expression darkened, when she noticed that he was staring at the uppity muggleborn with interest, and an odd gleam of tenderness in his eyes.

 _Why on earth would George Weasley be interested in prim, proper, not to mention utterly plain Hermione Granger?_

It made no bloody sense whatsoever. Granger was intelligent, yes, but while the gorgeous wizard was a mischievous prankster, she was all about rules and regulations, and she had such a _'smarter than thou'_ attitude, that Katie Bell was properly disgusted with her House mate. She despised Granger with a passion, and she was slightly ashamed to admit, that she was disappointed she did not die in the heat of the war.

She frowned at that thought, and vehemently tried to deny that she could ever wish death on someone, but she just could not help it. It was as if she suddenly had a singular focus of wishing harm on the muggleborn, and deep inside that troubled her, but it was not like she had control over her urge.

The reason she was back at Hogwarts was to complete her studies. Katie was a year older than the current Eighth Year students, but she went into hiding with her family, before the war had escalated. Thankfully she did not lose anyone she held dear to her heart, well..., apart from those, who were foolish enough to stay behind to die at the Death Eaters' hands.

"Are you feeling alright, Miss Bell?" Romilda Vane asked quietly, as she was concerned about the pretty witch she admired.

Bell blinked, and nodded curtly. "Of course." She replied.

Romilda hummed, and her eyes trailed the older witch's gaze, and landed upon Hermione Granger. She scowled. She disliked that witch, not because she was smart, but because she had such _fine_ wizards for best friends. She was envious of her social standing, and her fame. Vane wanted to be more like Granger, however she only desired her best qualities. _She certainly did not want that hair. Gross._

"I wish she did not come back..." She muttered under her breath, and Katie's eyes snapped to the younger lion, a cold smile curling her lips.

" _Is that so?_ " She echoed. "That is something we have in common, Miss Vane." She whispered into her ear.

"I am not surprised." Romilda continued. "She is _atrocious_." She frowned. "I wish we could _do_ something about this..." She sighed in frustration, as she was not exactly a master mind.

Katie smirked, and leaned in closer. "Perhaps we _can_ do something." She confided in her. "How good is your spell-work, Miss Vane?" She inquired.

Her eyes widened. "I am fairly good with a wand, Miss Bell." She said smugly. "Why do you ask?"

Bell rolled her eyes inwardly at the obliviousness of the witch, and explained what she had in mind. Vane was enthusiastic about teaching the muggleborn a lesson, and they held a hushed conversation over their breakfast, and waited. When the Headmistress left for the High table, and the blonde Hufflepuff joined Granger's company, their plan became even clearer, thus they drew their wands in unison, and cast some hexes and curses at the first year.

Katie's eye widened, as Granger dived at the small girl, and protected her with her body, casting a powerful _Shield Charm_ over her young charge. She became enraged, sending a _Bone-Breaking Curse_ at her back, while Romilda lit her robes on fire.

They shared a satisfied smile between themselves, as their spells struck Granger, and she fell limp over the Hufflepuff.

Dumbledore's phoenix screeched in an otherworldly voice, that creeped Katie out, and it was like her insides had frozen in fear. She had absolutely no idea a phoenix could sound like that. Her stomach tied itself in knots, as the aftermath of their actions hit them.

Multiple _Stunning Spells_ flew in their direction, which they were too slow to protect themselves from, and the last thing Katie heard, was George's enraged voice, as he yelled at her, before everything went black.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, this was hard to write, but hopefully you enjoyed reading it. We shall see about the fallout in the next chapter.


	13. Swirling Emotions

George had a restless night, but who would have the heart to blame him, if they had their dead twin's ghost visit them for a few moments, only to disappear from their life again?

He felt emptier, than before Hogwarts took it upon herself to aid him with his heart's desire. Perhaps some things were _really_ best to remain undiscovered, because now he was obsessed with the idea of coaxing the castle to help him to see Fred again. It was unhealthy, and it was _toxic_ , but he was fixated on doing research about this phenomenon.

He strolled towards the Great Hall, not paying any attention to anyone who wanted to talk to him. He sat down on the furthest spot available, and buttered a piece of toast, wishing he had some ice cold milk to enjoy with it. He only needed to think it, before it appeared in front of him. He wasn't even surprised anymore. _If Hogwarts could make a conversation between him and Freddie happen, then milk was absolutely no problem whatsoever, was it?_

George snorted to himself, but thanked the castle nevertheless for her assistance, and felt a warm tingle in the back of his mind, but he had no time to ponder the significance of that, as a rather surprising vision floated to the forefront of his mind. His eyes widened slightly, as he watched Hermione glide inside the hall, with a beautiful phoenix bird perched on her shoulder.

His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the undeniable grace she carried herself with, and how much more alluring she was with a legendary mythical creature enhancing her beauty, and poise. He did not miss the protective and affectionate way the phoenix nuzzled into her luscious hair, or the way her expression softened when he did that.

 _Was it be possible that the late Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix had chosen Hermione to be his new companion?_ He really would not put that past her, to be worthy of such honour. Then again that also hinted at her _purity_ and _power_.

His eyes trailed her movement, as she walked to sit down at a fairly deserted spot, without paying too much attention to the whispers around her. He frowned, as he realized that there were quite a few sneers and shocked expressions in the hall, and he could only hope that no one was nursing actual malicious intent towards her.

George's gaze softened, as Hermione gently rubbed Fawkes' crown feathers, and offered him fruit. She looked _so_ gentle, that it twisted his heart. He raised an eyebrow as Headmistress McGonagall strolled towards the muggleborn witch, and conversed with her briefly.

His lips twitched with amusement as Lisa Goldstein rushed up to hug the life out of Hermione, only to stare at her wide-eyed when she noticed the phoenix.

Then in the next moment things happened so fast, that he barely had time to react. Romilda Vane and _Katie freaking Bell_ of all people had viciously attacked the first year Hufflepuff, only for Granger to protect her with her magic and body. His _deranged_ _House mates_ were _so_ angry about that, that they cursed her in her back, and set her robes on fire.

George's heart was beating in his throat, as he rushed up to her and muttered a quick " _Aguamenti!_ " to put out the fire, and then brandished his wand, and fired two _Stunning Spells_ , yelling at Katie with white hot anger. Fawkes screeched venomously at the girls, and if it wasn't for Hermione needing him more, he would have lashed out at them, phoenix, or not

"Have you freaking lost your minds?" He shouted, as he immobilized them both, and his attention snapped to the victim of their fury, but unfortunately he did not know much about first aid, so he watched helplessly, as Headmistress McGonagall, and Poppy Pomfrey dashed to her aid.

The matron quickly mended the bones she could, but she was aware that Miss Granger needed further treatment, not to mention her singed thighs. "Come along, Mr. Weasley." Pomfrey sternly ordered, as she waved her wand to levitate her patient, but Fawkes simply stared at George, and opened a mind link between them.

" _Hold on to them._ " He trilled mentally.

The wizard's eyes widened, but did as the bird requested, and gently touched both the Healer, and Hermione, and Fawkes flashed them out of the Great Hall with fiery flare, leaving the Headmistress to deal with the aftermath, and the chaos that they left in their wake.

* * *

 **A/N:** I think it's safe to say that George's emotions are bound to be rather chaotic at the moment.


End file.
